Clean Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles, #1)

by Ilona Andrews

"Did you hear that?" a woman asked. I crouched behind the growth. No. No, you didn't hear anything. Don't mind me, I'm not hiding the corpse of a nasty creature behind your flower bed. Nope. Nothing here but cute, fluffy bunnies scampering adorably into the night... "Hear what?" a man asked. "The sirens, Kevin." "No." Kevin was my kind of people.

Dad used to remind me that every human had magic. The difference between them and me was awareness and practice. Most people simply didn't realize they could do things that bent their reality. It was kind of like growing up in a land with no deep rivers or lakes. If you never tried, how would you know if you could swim?

As if on cue, Officer Marais turned and looked directly at us. "He suspects something," Caldenia said. "He has no proof." "If he ever becomes an issue, I could eat him. He looks delicious." "Thank you, but that won't be necessary." And that wasn't creepy. Not at all.

He smiled. The smile lit his face, giving him a dangerous, wicked edge, and... humor. He knew he was bad. He thought it was funny. Wow. I've never before understood the true meaning of "handsome devil." I knew logically what it meant, but now I saw it in action. Sean was a handsome devil in the flesh: arrogant, dangerous, and hot. I knew he was bad for me, but I had this absurd pull to reach out and touch his face. If he weren't so happy with himself, I might have even considered it.

"Sean, how much money do you need?" He gave me a flat look. No outrage, no anger, just a wall of no. "I'll be back in an hour." He went out the door. Hell would bloom before Sean Evans started taking care of my bills. I'd make him take the money. I just had to be smart about it.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost convince myself it was Dad grilling outside rather than some werewolf with entitlement issues.

He shrugged. "I don't need much. A bed. A bathroom would be nice. As long as it's clean." I glared at him. How to insult an innkeeper in five words or less...

"People say that physics has laws," I told him, walking to the bedroom door. "I prefer to view them as a set of flexible guidelines."

Lord Soren stopped and stared at me. "I have five men-at-arms. All seasoned veterans." "I have my broom, the inn, and the alpha-strain werewolf."

"If we start something, it will be loud and bloody. We wish to avoid detection, but this isn't our planet. We will crush you and leave." "You will try."

He had the kind of face that would stop traffic and when the cars finally finished piling up, he would quietly chuckle to himself about it.

There was something almost serene about walking through Costco in the morning. The clean expanse of the floor just rolled on and on, interrupted only by twenty-foot-tall shelves and stacks of merchandise arranged in neat bright islands in the gray sea of concrete. Maybe it was the feeling of plenty.

The woman stared at the ruined body. Blood dripped from her arm. A fine spray of red covered her face—must've been cast off when she slammed down the cans. She wiped her face with her left forearm and kicked the stalker's corpse with her sneakered foot. "Don't mess with Texas." I looked at her. She shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to say."

Just because everyone says it can't be done doesn't mean jack.

If I died in the parking lot of Costco, I would be very unhappy in my afterlife.

"Why hasn't he returned to his planet, filled with other dahakas?" "We don't know if it's a he," I murmured. "Always assign a gender to an adversary," Caldenia said. "It keeps you from thinking you're dealing with a dumb animal.

"It's always work with you," the russet-haired man said. "Some of us have to mind the safety of the realm," the blond said. A narrow smile curled his lips. "I've given the realm eight years of my life. It can bite me," his stocky companion retorted. "How far is it?" The slim man raised his left arm. A hawk dropped out of the sky and landed on his bracer. "We're almost there. Two blocks left." "Good. Let's get this crap and go home." They turned into the side street. "That bird smelled dead," Sean said.

George and Jack! I always forget this cameo.

When a man takes up arms, he does so for many reasons. Sometimes to punish, sometimes to intimidate or frighten. But when a woman picks up a weapon, she means to kill.

Kissing Sean Evans was like drinking a shot of the strongest liquor in the world while it was on fire.

"Fear is good," Sean told me. "Too much fear isn't good," Arland said. "Don't worry, I'll be there." Sean put his hand on my arm and stopped, letting Arland go forward a few steps. He leaned to me and said quietly, "Don't count on him or on me. If things don't go well, you turn around, run back to the house, and let the inn guns blow that bastard to pieces if he follows. I left my parents' number on your kitchen table. Call them if something happens. They'll help."

I love Arland, but Sean is practical, not flowery. He protects Dina with information and plans ahead in case the worse should happen. It shows a deeper caring.

"I will bury you on this planet." "Big words. Just try to die well. Don't shame the House any further."